


stay close to me

by SoraRyuuzaki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I needed to get some feelings out before ep 12, M/M, Suicide mention, Yuuri is Suicidal, trying to process some stuff irl too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraRyuuzaki/pseuds/SoraRyuuzaki
Summary: Yuuri decides to start therapy to treat his anxiety in an attempt to "fix" himself before the GPF.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i really did not do this idea as much justice as i hoped to do. i apologize in advance.

"Mr. Katsuki Yuuri?" The clerk poked her head out of the door. "The doctor will see you now."

Yuuri and Victor rose, hand in hand. As Yuuri began to step forward.

"Are you sure you'll be okay, Yuuri?" Victor asked, squeezing his hand lightly.

Yuuri turned to smile tiredly at Victor. Victor's heart wrenched at the sight of Yuuri, whose eyes were heavy from restless nights. "I'll be fine," he said, returning Victor's squeeze before slipping out of his grip.

"I love you," Victor called as Yuuri was about to close the door.

He paused before flashing a more hopeful smile over his shoulder, mouthing the words "I love you, too."

Victor waited for the door to swing shut before collapsing into the couch, his face in his hands. His heart ached with the thought of Yuuri, curled up in his arms last night, tears staining Victor's shirt as his body trembled. He was so vulnerable, so fragile; Victor felt as if the wrong move would shatter him to bits.

The clerk opened the door. "Excuse me? Mr. Nikiforov?"

"Yes," Victor answered, getting to his feet.

"Mr. Katsuki's appointment will take about two hours, as it's the first appointment and the therapist will need to conduct an examination. Please feel free to take a walk around the area, if you need to; it might make the wait a little easier."

Victor smiled. "I'll think about it, thank you," he said as the clerk disappeared once more.

He sat down again with another sigh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded. He let his head hang.

They didn't have a choice, really. Yuuri's anxiety had taken a turn for the worse and Victor didn't know how to help, though it wasn't for a lack of trying. It was Yuuri who had suggested seeing a therapist.

Victor pressed his intertwined fingers against his lips. He felt ashamed of himself, really; he felt terrible that he was unable to provide Yuuri with the support that he needed. He didn't know what to do or how to make it better when his love was wrought with anxiety, immobilized by the fight-or-flight instinct that simply made him freeze in place. He wondered if Yuuri didn't trust him enough to help.

The waiting room began to feel a little stuffy. Taking the clerk's advice, he exited the building and walked along the street, taking in the smell of the ocean.

He wandered aimlessly through the stores with the intention of buying Yuuri a gift-- a congratulations of sorts for getting through his first therapy session. He picked up a baby blue blanket with paw prints all over it to match Yuuri's phone case and a bouquet of roses, as well as a copy of The King and the Skater to cuddle up to that night. He hoped that Yuuri would appreciate it.

By the time he got back to the therapist's waiting room, there were only a few minutes until Yuuri's session was scheduled to end. Victor resisted the urge to pace around the room and instead busied himself with the bouquet and the gifts.

The handle popped open with a click and he shot to his feet, only to quickly sit down when another patient exited the room. He tapped his foot impatiently, worry starting to show through his normally cheerful expression.

The door swung open again to reveal Yuuri, a tissue box in one hand and a wad of tissue in the other. Victor rose once more, the blanket and movie falling to the floor.

"Yuuri...!"

His boyfriend managed a small smile as he wiped the remnants of tears from his eyes. "I'm back, Victor."

Victor wrapped him in his arms, the cellophane on the bouquet crinkling and eliciting a small giggle from Yuuri.

"What's this?" He asked as he pulled away.

"I got you some gifts," Victor smiled, cupping his cheek in his hand. "I thought we could have a nice night in today."

Yuuri took the bouquet as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Victor picked up the blanket, wrapping it around his boyfriend's shoulders and engulfing him in another warm hug. He kissed Yuuri's forehead before picking up the movie and leading him out the door.

They walked to the station in silence; Victor kept his hand wrapped protectively around Yuuri’s waist, unsure of what to ask. Was he allowed to ask about it? Did Yuuri want to talk about it? He wanted to know how Yuuri felt about the whole idea of therapy now that he had gone once, but the words seemed to dance just out of reach.

"... how was it?" Victor finally asked when they boarded the subway. He glanced at Yuuri out of the corner of his eye, who shuffled uneasily and pulled at the blanket around his shoulders.

"Mmmm. It was weird," Yuuri replied. He swayed as the train started, bumping lightly into Victor. "It's weird, talking about my life like that."

"Like what?"

"Just... being able to say things. Anything. Talking about skating, about my family… about you.” Yuuri smiled softly before wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “And crying. It's so easy to cry, even if I don't want to. It must be so weird, watching me cry."

Victor steadied Yuuri with a hand on the shoulder as the train rounded a corner. "You shouldn't feel weird, Yuuri. Everyone cries. And I’m sure they've seen tons of people cry."

He felt the younger man shift in his arms.

"I know; it's still... I still feel weak."

Victor pulled him closer and buried his nose in Yuuri's hair. "You're not weak. You’re so strong for even coming to this appointment today. And you’re even stronger for deciding to come on your own."

An arm wrapped around Victor. He heard Yuuri's grip on the cellophane tighten.

"Thank you, Victor."

"When's your next session?"

Yuuri leaned into his boyfriend, humming into his coat. "The day after tomorrow."

"Mmm. That's good."

"Almost as good as these roses," Yuuri grinned.

"But nowhere near as good as you," Victor hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

-

That night, Victor awoke to Yuuri slipping into bed for the second time that night.

"What's wrong? Couldn't sleep?"

Yuuri curled up against him. "Yeah," he murmured into Victor's chest. "I had a lot on my mind. I went for a walk to try to calm myself down."

Victor pulled him close. "What were you thinking about?”

His boyfriend buried his face deeper into Victor’s chest. Victor began to stroke his hair, not pushing for a response. He didn’t even know what he should say, anyway.

After a few minutes, Yuuri spoke.

“Have you… Do you ever feel…” Yuuri seemed to struggle with the right words to say. “Have you ever… felt irreplaceable?”

Victor blinked. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

Yuuri shook his head vigorously. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“No, Yuuri, tell me.”

“It’s nothing. I don’t think you’d really get it, Victor.”

Victor sighed, burying his face in Yuuri’s hair. He paused for a moment, trying to decide what to say. “You’re irreplaceable, Yuuri. No one can take your place. No one will ever have my heart the way you do. 

There was no response, so Victor figured that the reassurance was enough. He kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head and let himself drift away into sleep, drowning in the scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his body.

 

The next morning, Victor woke up to an empty bed. Panicking, he threw off the covers and hastily pulled on his robe as he stumbled out of the room looking for Yuuri.

He found his boyfriend setting out breakfast, clad in an apron over his pajamas. Yuuri smiled at Victor, but it was obvious that there were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"Good morning, Victor," he chimed.

Victor sighed. "How long have you been up? This is quite the feast." He appreciated the Japanese-style breakfast laid out on the table, though he would much rather have had Yuuri slept well.

Yuuri sat down next to him. "Mmm. About a couple of hours. I couldn't sleep or sit still, so I made some breakfast before practice today

He watched as Yuuri daintily picked at the eggs. They were supposed to practice today, sure, but Victor couldn't help it wonder if Yuuri would be able to perform well today. The bags under his eyes hadn't disappeared in the slightest, and he hadn't slept well last night-- or any night, recently. Yuuri’s appetite had waned, as well. He understood that the Grand Prix Finals were approaching soon and that it weighed on Yuuri’s mind, but he worried for his boyfriend's health.

_I hate when I'm right_ , Victor thought miserably as Yuuri failed another jump. He skated over to help his protege to his feet. "Yuuri, you're too tense," he chided gently. "What's on your mind?"

"... nothing," Yuuri said, dusting the ice off his pants. "I'll make the next one, I promise," he added as he skated off.

Yuuri didn't make the next one, or the one after that. He was able to just barely hit his quad toe loop, but that was the only quad jump he landed all day. Victor noted his tense form, his sloppy free leg; he wondered why Yuuri seemed so anxious before quickly chiding himself. _He's diagnosed with anxiety; of course he's anxious._

The protege seemed more disappointed than the coach as they left the rink later that night. Victor squeezed his hand, hoping to cheer him up. Yuuri refused to meet his eyes but gave him a small squeeze in return.

_What can I do to help him?_

There was a small tug on his arm as something slipped out of his grip. Victor looked back to see Yuuri had stopped walking. His eyes were trained on the horizon, a lost look on his face. The waves crashed steadily against the shore underneath the bridge they stood on, a gentle rhythm that echoed in their silence. Even though he was physically in front of him, even though he could feel Yuuri’s pulse if he squeezed hard enough, it suddenly felt as if Yuuri were thousands of miles away.

"... Victor?" Yuuri spoke at last.

"Yes, Yuuri?"

A silence hung between them, a constricting moment that left Victor unable to process any other thoughts except, _God, he feels so far away._

"... I'm sorry,” Yuuri said at last, though it felt as if he were apologizing for more than one thing.

Victor tried to sound cheerful. "Don't worry about it! We mess up in practice so that we don't mess up--"

"It's not that," Yuuri interjected quietly. Brown eyes flickered, looking once at Victor and then back towards the horizon. "I... what's wrong... I don't know how to fix what's wrong with me."

"Nothings wrong with you, Yuuri. We'll get through this," Victor reassured him.

Yuuri didn't seem too convinced. "But I have anxiety. I feel… I…” Yuuri struggled for a few heavy moments, trying to find the right words. In the end, he shook his head, seeming to give up on the statement altogether. “Therapy's supposed to help, right? But I don't feel any better yet."

"It was just your first appointment, Yuuri. These things take time."

Yuuri’s hand slipped out of Victor’s grip. He looked out over the edge of the bridge, the wind gently pushing his hair back. Victor noticed the tears pooling in Yuuri’s eyes. Were they from frustration? Anger? Disappointment?

“We don’t have time,” Yuuri said at last. “The Grand Prix Finals are soon. They’re coming so quickly, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“And we can work on that together,” Victor pressed.

Yuuri shook his head. “But on the ice, I’m the only one performing. I’m the only one competing. If I don’t pull myself together—if I don’t win—you’d have left skating for nothing. I need to be fixed.”

"Yuuri, nothing about you needs to be fixed," Victor replied gently, holding out his hand.

"Then why do I feel broken? I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I have a chance to redeem myself. I have you; I never dreamed that would be possible. But no matter what I do, I… I feel like something terrible is going to happen. I can’t enjoy myself.”

"Yuuri--"

"I'm beyond help. I have you, and you're everything I've ever wanted, and I still can't shake this feeling that it's all too good to be true. That you're going to disappear soon, and I hate it!" Tears were falling steadily now as Yuuri clutched his head, his shoulders heaving with every gasping breath.

"Yuuri, I'm not going anywhere--"

"Don't say that!" Yuuri shouted, swatting away Victor's hand. "Don't say that. You don't belong in the sidelines. You don't belong in the kiss and cry. You don’t belong next to me. You belong on the ice, Victor. Not with me."

Victor's hand was frozen in place. Yuuri looked so vulnerable, tears flooding down his face from behind his glasses. He reached a hand out to touch Yuuri, but the protégé flinched. Victor didn't know what to do, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, searching his brain for something-- anything-- that would make this better.

"... I'm sorry, Yuuri," he said after a heavy silence. "I don't know what I should do."

"I don't, either."

Victor fished out a napkin from his pockets and offered it to Yuuri, who took it gingerly and wiped his face with it. He wrapped his arms around the young skater, who finally allowed Victor’s touch, and guided him home.

"Some water," Victor offered, sitting down at the table next to him.

Yuuri took it silently, sipping at the water gingerly.

Makkachin trotted over to Yuuri and rested his head in Yuuri's lap, nuzzling his thigh. His face softened. Victor flipped idly through the magazine, unable to read the Japanese text but admiring the pictures anyway. Every so often, he looked at Yuuri, the man’s eyes still threatening tears but his breathing now even and calm. The expression on his face was lifeless.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Victor asked quietly.

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Victor reached out to place a hand on Yuuri’s thigh. He felt Yuuri tense underneath his hand, so he pulled back and watched in silence.

"I'm going to go to sleep," Yuuri said at last.

Victor nodded. "Okay, I'll come too--"

"I want to sleep by myself tonight."

Victor's smile faded when he saw the dark expression on his lover's face. "Okay," he said, more softly this time. "Good night, Yuuri."

"Good night," came the reply as he disappeared into the hallway.

The Russian man found it was much more difficult to sleep by himself now that he and Yuuri had shared a bed. He missed Yuuri's warmth, fingers snaking through the sheets in search of warmth that wasn't there. He missed being able to hold Yuuri, his rhythmic breathing giving Victor a sense of calm.

He slipped out of bed and snuck into the hallway towards Yuuri's room. He pressed an ear to the door, aching to hear Yuuri's light snoring. Unable to hear it, he opened the door slightly. Through the darkness, Victor could see Yuuri's face, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling at a steady pace. Satisfied, Victor closed the door and crawled back into bed, where he fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he woke up to Makkachin nudging him awake.

"Okay, okay," he groaned, shoving his poodle out of his face and reaching for his phone. 11:30 AM.

Yuuri's appointment was at 11.

Victor shot out of bed and raced to Yuuri's, throwing the door open only to find that the bed was empty and neatly made.

"Vicchan, good morning!" Yuuri's mother called. "Yuuri already left; I thought you were going with him?"

Victor opened his mouth to respond when his phone began to ring. Unknown Caller.

Cautiously, he hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Victor Nikiforov?"

"Yes, this is," he replied.

"I'm Dr. Omoeda, Katsuki Yuuri's therapist. I don't want to alarm you, but Yuuri's not feeling well; he's been having thoughts of suicide today and I don't feel safe letting him leave quite yet. He left your contact as an emergency number."

_Suicide._

"Mr. Nikiforov?"

"Y-yes, yes, I'm sorry," he stammered. His heart hammered in his ears. Had he heard that right?

The voice on the other line softened. "I understand; this is very difficult news to receive. Would it be possible for you to come? Yuuri would like you here."

_Yuuri._

"Yes, of course," Victor said. At the mention of his love, he regained control of his body; he leapt to his feet and grabbed his coat. "I'll be right there."

"You know where our office is?"

He was out the door, his shoes half on and his coat dangling off one arm. The cold air bit into his skin, but he didn't even feel it. "Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," came the reply before the call ended.

At the stoplight, Victor kicked his foot into his shoe as he all but slammed his fist onto the button. He paced anxiously at the corner until the light finally turned green, when he bolted across the street to the train station.

_Yuuri. I have to see you._

The name echoed in his mind over and over and over again. Unable to sit still, he stood on the train, tapping his foot as he cursed the latecomers who delayed the train.

_I'm coming, Yuuri._

As soon as the train came to a stop, Victor burst through the door, narrowly avoiding collision with incoming patrons but too panicked to apologize. Feeling the sweat pool on his neck, he ripped off the scarf he had hastily thrown on and shoved it in his pocket.

_I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Yuuri._

He finally reached the therapist's office, panting heavily as he all but collapsed against the clerk's desk.

"Mr. Nikiforov?" the clerk asked. "Come inside, Dr. Omoeda is waiting for you."

Trying to still his breathing, Victor followed the clerk into the hallway before she knocked on a door. "Mr. Nikiforov is here," she called.

Victor wrapped his hand around the doorknob. His breath came in ragged gasps; his heart refused to quell. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was because of the running or if it was because he was scared. He was afraid of what might be behind the door. Was he ready to see it? Was he ready to see Yuuri?

_Of course I am,_ he chided himself.

His desire to see Yuuri surged and he opened the door, his breath hitching when his eyes landed on his lover, eyes closed and sprawled on the couch, a mountain of tissues littering the floor beside him. He could see the streaks where tears had fallen, and his breathing was slow and laborious.

"Oh, Yuuri..."

Victor rushed to his side, lifting his head gently so he could sit and then replacing Yuuri's head on his lap. He stroked the black hair lovingly as he felt Yuuri curl up to his touch.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Nikiforov," Dr. Omoeda said quietly.

"Of course."

He felt Yuuri's warmth through the legs of his trousers. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed firmly and smiled softly when Yuuri nestled further into Victor's lap.

_Thank god, he’s here._ Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s hair.

"Yuuri, is it okay if I tell Victor what happened?"

Yuuri nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Dr. Omoeda turned her attention to Victor. "When Yuuri came in today, he was feeling unwell. He had mentioned that you two had a fight yesterday?"

Victor nodded, squeezing Yuuri's shoulder again. "We were... we were talking about his session, and his anxiety. He said he couldn't shake the feeling that I was going to leave, and that he felt like I belonged somewhere else. I kept telling him that wasn't the case." He leaned down to kiss Yuuri's head. In response, Yuuri buried his face deeper into Victor's lap. "I'm not going anywhere, Yuuri."

"It sounds like you love him a lot," Dr. Omoeda said, smiling softly.

"I do."

He felt the fabric on his pants move as Yuuri tightened his grip.

"When Yuuri came in today, he was struggling with a lot of guilt and anxiety over having said those things to you. He felt terrible and was really beating himself up over it, to the point where he wished he could just... disappear. The guilt was weighing on him a lot. He felt like he overreacted and was very ashamed of himself.

“We were also talking about his feeling of worthlessness—that no matter what he did, there would be someone to replace him. He felt as if he were nothing more than the sum of his parts; as if he himself was not special. As if he could be replaced by someone else.

Victor's stomach lurched. He pressed another kiss to Yuuri's head, hearing muffled sobs and feeling tears stain his pants.

"Oh, Yuuri... If you disappeared, I don't know what I would do. I love you."

A strangled noise came from the boy in his lap as the sobs began to rack his body. Victor stroked his hair.

“Yuuri, you are the most special thing in my life. You are my eros, my agape; my life, my love. That is you, and no one else could ever be that for me.”

Victor could feel the tears stain his pants but he could not care less as he cradled Yuuri in his arms, humming softly as he rocked back and forth.

The therapist waited patiently until Victor straightened to speak again. "Yuuri was having thoughts of suicide and had a plan. His plan involved jumping off of a bridge. Can I trust you to keep him safe?"

"Of course."

The therapist nodded. “Then can we discuss a plan of action? What to do from here.”

-

Victor helped Yuuri out of the taxi they had called to get back home. Victor and Dr. Omoeda had decided that it would be best to get Yuuri home in as direct a manner as possible so he could rest without worrying about anything.

Yuuri had said little, if anything at all, during the drive home. He had simply leaned against Victor lifelessly as the taxi driver chatted politely about the weather and he had barely responded when Victor squeezed his hand. Victor supposed the minute twitch of fingers was the best he was going to get today, but he would take it.

Victor guided Yuuri through the back entrance, looking to avoid everyone if he could help it. The hand that Victor lead seemed to weigh more and more as they got closer to their rooms until Victor finally realized that Yuuri was tugging on it with as much strength as he could muster before his knees gave, collapsing onto the ground.

“Tired,” was all Yuuri managed.

Victor smiled and squatted down next to Yuuri, reaching down for his hand and massaging it between his two thumbs. “Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?”

Behind closed eyes and foggy glasses was a barely perceptible nod. Victor’s heart swelled with love.

“Do you want to go to your room or mine?”

“Yours.”

Without further ado, Victor scooped up his boyfriend in his arms and carried him bridal-style to the hallway, taking care to stride quickly past passageways that may host guests or other folks who might inquire about Yuuri. Once inside his room, Victor tucked his boyfriend into bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders. He removed Yuuri’s glasses and left them neatly folded on his nightstand. Makkachin entered shortly after, curling up next to Yuuri and licking his face. Yuuri flinched a little but didn’t move.

Victor figured Makkachin would be able to take care of Yuuri for a little, so he moved to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. A tug at the hem of his shirt stopped him, though, as he looked down to see Yuuri’s hand gripping it with more strength than he had shown all day.

“Stay?” he whispered.

Victor smiled, kneeling down and taking Yuuri’s hand between his own. He kissed the ring finger and pressed the palm against his cheek. Blue eyes found brown ones and locked them in a tender gaze.

“Always,” Victor replied. “I’ll stay close to you and never leave.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am diagnosed with major depressive disorder and general anxiety disorder and have been hospitalized for suicidal ideations before, and a dear friend of mine was considering suicide recently, so please refrain from making comments about whether or not this was believable because honestly i'm using this to sort things out so like i said please don't talk about it being believable or not believable because this was honestly just a ramble of thoughts that i had thinking about my friend and about myself so please be gentle in the comments. that is all.


End file.
